


trouble is, i'm not insane.

by lovesincerelyharry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Gen, Halloween AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-30
Updated: 2014-10-30
Packaged: 2018-02-23 04:35:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2534378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovesincerelyharry/pseuds/lovesincerelyharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One Direction in an insane asylum.</p>
<p>Based on this <a href="http://lovesincerelyharry.tumblr.com/post/71387183670/au-meme-one-direction-in-an-asylum-trouble-is">AU Meme</a>.</p>
<p>Also found at <a href="http://lovesincerelyharry.tumblr.com/">lovesincerelyharry</a> on tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	trouble is, i'm not insane.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween!
> 
> I've had this in my mind for a while now, and I've finally written it.
> 
> Please when you finish this, read the tags at the end. I go over exactly what mental diseases each of the boys have.
> 
> Thank you for reading.

Louis was acutely aware that the items in the bakery window did not line up according to size, and though his mind told him to fix it, his fingers pinched his sides and he continued walking behind his mother instead. The sidewalk was nearly empty, luckily enough for Louis’ mother, not a single soul walking this far out of his way to get an unorganized bakery item. She darted her eyes left and right, trying to avoid contact with others, because she and Louis walked down a particular path that had only one destination, and everyone in the small neighborhood knew what sat at the end of the sidewalk.

As they approached the end of the walkway, the lights from the enormous building before them shown on their faces, dragging their shadows behind them. Louis gaped up at the colossal windows on the light brick building, each one of them barred shut. A shiver ran down his spine, and he stopped dead in his tracks, losing his breath in the process.

Louis’ mother turned around. “You promised you would do this.” She moved behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders. “Not only for yourself but for me.”

“That was before I saw the bars.” He ran his hand up and down his left arm, scratching the scabs that sat there. “I’m not insane, Mother; I don’t belong here.”

She pushed Louis forward. “They will put you in your own room, and they will help you through this.” Step by step, they walked onto the grounds of the hospital. “I’m glad I caught it when I did, and we’re lucky enough to have this place near us.” Her voice withheld sincerity. “It’s nearly the 1900s. Imagine what they may have to help you in there.”

Louis looked up at another window. A man hung his arm out the window, the limb dangling between the bars. His face shown ashen despair before he pulled back and gripped the bars with his hands, shaking them violently before being dragged out of sight. Louis wanted to say something, anything to his mother, but he knew his words meant nothing now. And together, they walked to the front door, and she pulled on the handle.

A stark smell of medicinal alcohol hit Louis on the way in, his nose scrunching up and his fingers pinching both of his arms. His mother tapped his hands before walking in front of him and smiling brightly at the woman at the front desk. Louis dropped his hands and noticed the bright, white floor beneath him, the lights shining against it. The whole room smelled like isopropyl alcohol, and Louis gripped his sides again. A distressed scream echoed above them, and Louis took a step back, his legs ready to run.

“Honey, it’s okay.” The woman smiled warmly at Louis. “I know this seems really frightening now, but I promise we’ll take good care of you.” She spun around and grabbed a chart off of her desk. “I just need some information for your file.”

Louis’ mother turned towards him and gave a small smile. He moved his hand to his arm and began to pick at the hair there. Slowly, he nodded, a nauseating feeling creeping up through his body. He didn’t want to speak; he didn’t even want the women to look at him. He pulled out a patch of arm hair.

“Okay, what’s your name?” She had her pen and paper ready.

The words got stuck in Louis’ throat, and he turned towards his mother, his eyes wide. She quickly turned to the woman. “His name is Louis Tomlinson, and he’s twenty years old. He has a hard time speaking in front of crowds and especially new people. And the main reason why we came here today was because he picks at his skin and pulls out his hair.” As she said that, Louis tugged out another batch, this time pulling some skin with it. “He says that it’s because he hates certain parts of his body.” Louis’ eyes bulged, glaring at his mother. She ignored his silent pleas. “Specifically his midsection and parts of his face.”

The woman in white finished scribbling on her chart, and she looked up at Louis, giving him another warm grin. “And everything else, we’ll learn from you. I just need you to sign here, Louis.” He obliged, and the woman turned to his mother. “I’ll take him back now and get him changed into the proper clothes. If you’d like, you can come back and visit later; our hours are until seven tonight. But I can’t allow family members to come back into the hospital.”

Louis’ mother promised that she’d be back at six, but when she turned to leave, Louis knew he wouldn’t see her for a few days at least. Four children were hard enough to take care of without a psychotic son thrown in. So Louis gripped his torso a little tighter as he followed the woman with the white through a set of light blue double doors. Right above the doors hung “Rosemary Lunatic Hospital”. Louis pinched his skin through his shirt, sure he drew blood that time.

They made their way into a separate room, surrounded by steel blue clothes. She sauntered over to a pile of shirts and pants and grabbed the first two on the top. Smiling warmly, she handed them to Louis. “Please, put these on. I’ll spin around, so I’m not looking.” She did a one-eighty and looked at the wall of clothes.

Louis slowly let go of one side of his waist and slipped his shirt off quickly. In a matter of seconds, he was completely clothed again, and he coughed, hoping the woman would turn around. But instead of turning around, she walked forward, towards a new door. “Just place your clothes on the floor; you won’t be needing them. I’ll pick them up for you on my way back.” She pushed the door open. “Follow me.”

Quickly obliging, Louis followed the girl down a long hallway. As they neared the end, the noises around Louis kept getting louder and louder. He heard the scraping of chairs on tiled floors and the yelling of disgruntled patients and the clicking of pens on charts, and once they reached the door at the end, Louis’ nails were well into his arm.

The heavy doors swung open, and a sea of white and blue stepped into Louis’ vision. In the left corner of the room, a man in a white robe faced the wall and slowly pressed his body against it again and again. Another man with a clipboard walked over to him and slowly guided him to a chair, only for the patient to stand up again and repeat the process. Louis’ eyes drifted to a young girl, maybe 14, sitting on the floor in blue; she had her hands on the ground and she stared at the white tile in front of her. A bang sounded throughout the room, and Louis’ head snapped over to the right corner where a man had run into the wall at full speed and was currently being pulled down another hallway by two men in beige. 

The woman in front of Louis turned around. “Okay, down the hall to the left will be your room, number 214. It’s your room, so you can come and go as you please. I’m going to give your chart to your doctor, and he will probably meet with you today. Please, make yourself comfortable, and if you have any problems or concerns, anyone in a white or beige suit will gladly help you.” She gave Louis a warm smile before turning back around and heading down the right hallway, following in the footsteps of those beige men.

Louis looked forward into the large, white room. There were at least twenty people around him, and Louis could barely breathe. He dug his nails into his arms again and pulled, yanking hair and skin with the movement. He had the urge to scream, to cry out, but he didn’t want everyone turning to look at him. He considered backing out of the room, running down the hall, and pushing through the doors. He could probably do it, and he’d be back home by – 

“Hi, there!”

He was pulled back to reality as Louis looked around for the man who exclaimed. As he scanned the group, he found a blond-haired man frantically waving at him. He was sitting around three other men all of whom looked to be cooing the blond boy into not speaking. Instead of stopping, he just continued to wave in Louis’ direction. Instantaneously, Louis blushed and ducked his head down, but the grip on his arms wasn’t as strong.

“Hey, hey!” Louis looked back up and smiled. The man was now kneeling on his chair, and the rest of the group turned to look at Louis. He met eyes with a curly-haired boy, who immediately dropped his stare and smirked as a faint red tint went over his face. The other two just smiled at Louis, and the one with black hair gestured for Louis to come over, pointing to an empty seat two feet from him.

Slowly, Louis took one step past a girl speaking to herself and then a few more past a man clapping his hands. The blond man kept waving at him up until the point when Louis moved the chair into the group and sat down. Finally, he stopped waving and smiled at Louis. “Hi, I’m Niall.”

Louis grinned at him. “I-I’m Louis.” The horrid feeling in his stomach faded, but when he noticed the four boys staring at him, his right hand came up to his mouth and jaw to cover it.

Niall tucked his head into his shoulder. “Should we introduce everyone else?” After ten seconds of silence, Niall nodded his head. “Okay, I will.” He brought his head up and smiled at Louis again. “This is Zayn.” He pointed to the black-haired man to Louis’ right, who was now staring at his hands with horror. “That is Liam.” The man next to Zayn gave a small grin to Louis while his leg bounced up and down and his hands tapped again his knees.

“I’m Harry,” the curly boy muttered. He lifted his head up and smiled at Louis.

“You’re Harry now?” Liam spoke up, his voice monotone, something that didn’t match with his previous jittery actions.

Harry nodded. “I guess so.” A little laugh escaped his lips, and Louis found himself very confused.

“What do you mean?” Louis voiced through his hand.

Zayn reached over and touched Louis’ leg. “We’re all a little messed up in here.” In the background, Louis heard Niall muttering no over and over again. “I’ve been here for about six months; Liam’s been here for two months; Niall has had the pleasure of being here for a year; and Harry” – Harry kept quiet and bit his lip – “good ol’ Harry has been here for two years.”

“Did you know,” Niall said happily, “that it was Harry’s birthday a few months ago?”

Harry laughed. “Niall, that was February; it’s June now.”

Niall smiled at Harry. “That second birthday was our together.”

He placed a hand on Niall’s knee. “Yes, Niall, that was our second birthday together.” Niall grinned and then turned back into his shoulder and continued to mutter to himself.

Zayn shrugged. “Not all of Niall’s words come out right; and he sometimes yells. But other times, he’ll just speak to himself.” As if on cue, Niall laughed out loud at a joke that no one else heard. “My wife and twin girls died in my arms after a train accident. I keep wanting to join them, and the blood on my hands won’t wash off.” Louis glanced down at Zayn’s hands and didn’t see any red, but behind Zayn’s eyes, it was everywhere. “And as for Liam, no one gets as distracted and angry as him, and he sees his mum a lot.”

“My mother killed herself.” Liam tapped on his leg again. “But she’s still here.”

Louis just nodded his head, and slowly, his hand moved from his face to his waist, where he wound his arms around his torso and held on tightly.

“And Harry,” Zayn began, “Harry’s got four people inside of him, and no one knows how.”

Harry just shrugged. “I have no idea what you’re talking about; every time you bring that up, I don’t get it.”

Liam moved to the edge of his chair, and his voice held a euphoric nature. “We get that you forget what happens, but we swear, you have these different people that come out of you. Me personally, I like Justin.”

“Everybody likes Justin,” Niall grumbled, his feet tapping on the floor. Then, he instantaneously lifted his head up. “Mark is terrifying, Louis. Watch out for –” He dropped his head again and began whispering into his shoulder.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Clearly having multiple people inside you is a bad thing; or else I wouldn’t still be here.” 

Niall came back into the group. “Why are you here, Louis?”

Louis slowly unwound his arms and held them out. “I hurt myself.” Scattered on his arms were little crescent-shaped scabs, some old and some new. His fingernails were dirty underneath, and the boys nodded their heads. “I’m twenty and I’m here because my mother wanted to fix me.”

Liam leaned forward. “But aren’t we all here because we need to be fixed?”

Zayn shook his head. “Hell, Harry here doesn’t even know if he really changes personality; he’s just going by what people tell him. Niall doesn’t see anything wrong; he’s just in his own world. And me, what have I got to live for anymore?” Gently, Liam leaned back in his chair again, silently nodding along with everything Zayn said.

“But are they helping you?” Louis’ voice held a fear that he felt from day one: They wouldn’t be able to fix him.

Niall bounced back into the conversation. “The problem is that they don’t know what’s wrong with us.” Zayn and Liam smiled at Niall’s coherent sentence while Harry watched Louis, shifting his weight in his seat.

Liam voiced, “There are people like me here, people like Zayn, probably people like you, Louis. But as for Niall and Harry, they are nearly one-of-a-kind here.” Towards the end, his voice fell. “I just can’t bear it…”

Zayn patted his arm. “Your depression can’t take over you again, Liam.”

Liam immediately moved forward in his chair and grabbed Zayn’s arm. “It’s not, okay? Get your hands off of me.” He glared at Zayn and gripped his arm until his fingers turned white.

As quickly as it all happened, a man in a beige suit was pulling Liam away from Zayn and lifting him off his chair. Liam was yelling at the man, clearly agitated. Three of the boys watched as Liam was pulled down the left hallway, his words of annoyance fading into the distance. Harry squirmed in his chair some more after the commotion settled down, and he looked back up at Louis.

“Hi,” Harry said, his voice much higher than before.

“Hello?” Louis said incredulously.

Niall’s grin widened. “Hi, Emma, how you today?”

Harry’s lips pursed in a cute smile, pink flowing through his cheeks. “I’m much better now actually.” His eyes fell back on Louis.

Pulling himself away from staring at his blood-stained hands, Zayn leaned in towards Louis. “Harry has four people inside him, remember? You’re meeting Emma.”

Emma giggled. “Don’t be shy, Louis; I don’t bite.”

A blush of red trickled through Louis’ face. He brought his hand up to cover part of his mouth. “How do you know my name?”

She gave a sideways grin, running a hand through her hair. “I’m with Harry through everything he does, just like Mark and Justin. But Harry can’t remember us and what we do. But we do that to protect him.”

Zayn laughed. “Mark protects him; you just come out whenever there’s a cute boy in the room.” Louis’ eyes bulged, and he ducked his head down to the floor. Zayn noticed Louis’ discomfort. “Don’t worry; we all met Emma within hours of getting here.”

Emma let out a high giggle. “Harry just surrounds himself in attractive men. How can I not come out?” Louis’ eyes locked with her again, and she bit her lip. “And the funniest thing is that the doctors haven’t met me yet.”

Louis tugged at the courage sitting in his stomach. “All of the doctors pale in comparison to us?” He managed to grin and bite the inside of his lip.

“Absolutely, but everyone pales in comparison next to you, Louis.” She kissed the air and ducked her head to the ground. Before Louis even had a chance to respond, Emma lifted her head back up. “Where’s Liam?”

Niall pushed off of his chair. “Hi, Harry.” He collapsed back down and played with his fingers.

Louis didn’t even have the words to say. Instead, Zayn found them for him. “Liam had another agitating moment; they took him to his room.” He looked over at Louis. “The doctors have this much figured out about Harry: He leaves us when there is commotion, and he comes back when the other person has finished telling their part.”

Harry perked up. “Who came out this time?”

Niall giggled inwardly. “Emma.”

Harry turned white, and he dropped his head in his hands. Louis smiled at the embarrassed boy; then, he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. He spun around in his chair and saw a tall man with wispy light brown hair staring down at him.

Niall jumped out of his chair. “Hi, Doctor!”

The man grabbed a pen out of his suit pocket. “Hello, Niall, how are you today?” Instead of answering, Niall walked away and began down the left hallway. “Okay, getting a head start then.” He scribbled something down one of the four charts he had in his hands. Then, his eyes fell on Louis again. “You must be Louis. I’m Doctor Christensen, and I’ll be your primary doctor.”

Louis stood up and faced him while Zayn slipped a hand down Louis’ back. “This man is the son of the founder of this hospital, and he only takes the best cases.” Zayn’s voice dripped sarcasm mixed with agitation. “You’ll love him.” He dropped his hand and walked down the same hallway as Niall.

Louis fought off the nagging urge to dig his fingernails into his skin. “Where are they going?”

Doctor Christensen smiled. “They have to go to the daily therapies. Liam went to his a little earlier, Niall sees the same person as Harry, and Zayn is supposed to write down his thoughts in front of a therapist.” He looked past Louis at Harry. “And aren’t you supposed to be with Niall right now?” His voice held authority, and Harry curled in on himself. “Harry, now.”

Harry lifted his head again, and his eyes were cold. “Don’t you dare treat Harry like that.”

Louis took a step back, and Doctor Christensen huffed. “Hello, Mark; I apologize.”

Mark walked over to the doctor and met his eyes. “Treat him with more respect or else you’ll have to deal with me all the time.” He pushed on the doctor’s chest, shoving him out of Mark’s way. Doctor Christensen fixed his jacket as Mark walked down the hall, kicking a chair in the process.

“Okay,” the doctor said, holding all of his charts tightly, “Let me show you your therapy room.”

Doctor Christensen walked away, but Louis didn’t move. He turned to look at an older man sitting in the only rocking chair in the corner of the room. His eyes were blank as another man in white came over to him. He pulled the elder up from under his arms and whispered in his ear, “It’s time for your surgery.” The old man continued to stare at the same place on the floor until he was placed in a wooden mobile chair. Then, his eyes met Louis’, and beneath their stare held a glimmer of hope. And as quickly as that appeared, it faded into something more sinister: Fear. A cold feeling travelled through Louis’ veins as he spun around and ran after his doctor.

He was nearly five meters in front of Louis before he stopped at a door and slid a chart underneath. Louis peered into the room and saw Zayn sitting at a desk with a man on the opposite side. He was handing Zayn a journal, and in it, Louis could make out a lot of red ink and the predominant word he saw was blood, written in capital letters in the middle of the page along with the name Julia underneath it. Louis turned away and followed Doctor Christensen even further down the hall.

As they neared a room two doors down, Louis heard a gentle tapping followed by a bang. The doctor slipped another chart under the door as Louis looked in. Liam sat in front of a desk, and he slowly tapped his fingers on the desk. Then, he looked off at the wall and said, “Mum.” The man in the room with him shook his head and proceeded to bang on the table, pulling Liam back from his hallucination. Louis jumped in time with the slam on the table and scuttled away only to nearly run into his doctor.

He gestured to the door on his right. “This is your room 214. Right across the hall is where we will meet for your therapy. I will be the doctor in charge of you, and I will oversee everything you do. So if you have any questions, please contact me.” He opened the door on his left. “We’ll start our first session today.” He walked into the room, and Louis followed behind him.

Doctor Christensen sat down at his desk. “Please, close the door and sit down.” Louis obligingly shut the door and took a seat across from him. The lights were far too dim in the room, and Louis quickly found his comfort zone, his arms tightly wrapped around his waist. Behind the wall on their right, Louis heard a faint ticking followed by a jolting scream. Louis’ eyes widened as his doctor’s narrowed. “Don’t mind that noise, Louis; it doesn’t pertain to you.” Louis heard a shout this time, followed by the familiar voice of Niall. Another recognized shout echoed in Louis’ ears, and the hair on his arms stood up. The doctor shook his head. “Mark is always a problem.” He lifted up a paper on his chart, placed it down slowly, and leaned over the table. “So Louis, let’s talk about your scars.”

Louis didn’t want to talk about the reason why he hated himself since age fourteen. He didn’t want to speak about his constant urge to organize things and his need to fix that one thing about himself which eventually led to two things and then three and maybe four. And every question his doctor asked caused Louis to open his mouth less on the next question. And every question ended with him hoping to leave the room and hoping to see his friends again.

Zayn didn’t want to write the words he felt. He didn’t want the constant eyes staring at him, badgering him to write more. He just wanted the red stain to leave his hands and his eyes to shut forever even at twenty-six. If his wife was back, she’d know just what to do; but she was gone along with his girls. So he wrote some more, even though he didn’t want to. His hand started to hurt and his eyes filled with tears, and then finally, the man in white told him to stop. And Zayn slumped back into the chair and watched his wife move from one corner of the room to the next, blood running down her face.

Liam didn’t want the pressure of having to sit still all the time. He hated the feeling of hopelessness inside his body, but he couldn’t do anything to fix it. His anxiety would build up, and then his agitation would come out. And every time he sat in that room, the walls would warp and cave in, only to appear fixed after the next blink. Then, the depression took over, and standing above him every time was his mother, a rope around her neck and a smile on her face, all of a sudden ready to take care of her twenty-five year old baby. And that was when Liam would bounce between anxiety and depression, every sight of his mother worse than the next.

Niall didn’t want to see Harry in pain, but every time they went in a room together, Harry suffered the most. At times, Niall didn’t even know who Harry was, but all he knew was that Harry was hurting. The friend in Niall’s head since he was twenty-two tried to soothe him as much as possible, but Niall just wanted his human friends back together because everything was better with them. So he sat in silence, waiting for his turn, because he knew that if his session was quick after Harry’s, they could leave together and prepare for another birthday.

Mark didn’t want to see Harry in pain either, and he fought every day to protect him in that room. Harry shut down, and Mark took over; he made that promise to Harry at age fifteen when his parents fought, and he vowed to never break that promise even when they came here at seventeen. And at the end of the day, Mark was protecting Emma and Justin, too, but he knew that none of them would be there without Harry. Without thinking about it, every day Mark battled those that touched Harry and probed Harry and tried to figure out exactly what was “wrong” with Harry. And Mark took all the pain, but that’s the price he was willing to pay so that Harry wouldn’t have to get hurt.

And with only fifteen minutes left until lights out, all five of them hung their heads and walked to their rooms across the hall. Louis caught a glimpse of an emotionless Harry – or was it maybe Mark? Zayn looked over at Liam, his eyes wide and his face expressionless. Niall whispered to himself about tomorrow being better, and the five of them opened their doors and disappeared behind the light brown wood. Niall stayed up speaking to himself; Zayn gripped his pillow as if it were his wife; Liam covered his head with the blanket and slept; Louis stared at the ceiling wide-eyed as he pulled out an arm hair at a time; and Mark pulled up the covers and shut Harry’s eyes, and somewhere in the middle of the night, Harry came back, turning over in bed and drifting back to sleep.

By morning, Louis didn’t even know it was time to wake up if it weren’t for a banging on his door followed by a girlish laugh. Pulling the covers off and opening the door, Louis smiled at Niall and what he presumed to be Emma. Zayn and Liam were right behind them.

“Come on, pretty boy.” Emma latched onto Louis’ hand, intertwining their fingers together, and the five of them walked into the common room. Niall took his normal seat, but this time, Emma let Louis sit next to her. Zayn gladly took his seat next to Niall and Liam next to Zayn.

Louis plucked up the little amount of courage it took and asked, “How did everyone sleep?” His hand was still in Emma’s.

“Great!” Niall exclaimed, though there were clear bags under his eyes.

“Harry woke up with a pain in his neck,” Emma said, massaging the area at the base of her skull with her other hand. “I have no idea what Mark went through last night, but Harry is going to be sore.”

“Allow me.” Louis dropped Emma’s hand and stood up. He moved behind her chair and started massaging her neck, first using just his thumbs in a circular motion. Emma dropped her head down and slowly brought it up back. She turned her head to look at Louis.

“Louis?”

Recognizing his voice, Louis smiled. “It’s okay, Harry; I’m just helping you out.” Louis hit a tender spot, and Harry winced. Slowly, Louis brought his fingers into the massage. And as Louis lifted Harry’s hair out of the way, he noticed a bright, red line on Harry’s neck. “Niall,” Louis spoke up, avoiding the area that was hurting Harry, “what exactly did they do you?”

“Shh,” Zayn vocalized, shaking his head. “We don’t talk about what we do because, if we do, it gets harder for us; they make it harder for us.”

“Not families our can tell.” Niall pursed his lips and frowned after he spoke, realizing his words weren’t right. He tried again. “Can’t tell our families.” He grinned at his achievement and patted Harry’s leg. “I did it.”

Harry smiled back at Niall, sharing his enjoyment. “Yes, you definitely did. Getting better, I think.”

Niall nodded. “We think so, too.” He ran his hand through his hair and brought his feet onto the chair, wrapping his arms around his legs.

Louis gingerly continued to massage Harry’s neck, and his eyes drifted to the rocking chair in the corner. The old man wasn’t sitting in it, and no one was even near it. “Hey,” Louis spoke up, “does that guy always sit in that chair?” He motioned with his head at the dead space in the corner.

Zayn craned his neck, along with Liam. “Yeah, he does,” Zayn answered. “I wonder where the old guy’s at; he’s always here before us.”

“Do you have any idea why he’s here?” 

Zayn shrugged. “No clue; he’s pretty quiet. Since I’ve been here, not one outburst. Harry, do you know anything?”

Harry picked his head up and turned towards Louis. “I think I heard someone say one time that he has been here since the hospital opened. People say that he knew Rosemary and was one of her first patients.”

Louis dropped his arms to his sides. “Why’s he still here?”

“That was usually where the trail of information stopped.” Harry turned back around and the words tumbled out. “I’ve been here since I turned seventeen. My parents met Mark after they fought for the thousandth time. He fought back, and they dragged him down here. I don’t remember anything; I just remember waking up in a place that wasn’t my home. When my parents finally visited me nearly a month later, I barely remembered anything; Mark kept coming out more often. In a year’s time, my memory was shit, and every day that I remembered, that man in the corner gave me a smile, as if he was telling me it would be okay.”

Louis ran his thumbs down Harry’s neck. “I think he gave me that yesterday.”

Harry sighed. “He probably did. And then on my eighteenth birthday, a bubbly, blond boy came bursting through those doors.” Niall smiled into his knees, letting everyone know he was still there. “After that, my memory got better; I had something – or rather, someone – to look forward to every day. And for the first time in a long time, I received an honest birthday wish. Zayn joined us this past October, and then Liam came around a week after my second birthday here.”

“Liam sang to Harry anyway,” Niall blurted out. Liam just chuckled and tapped his knee.

“After two years, my doctors know Mark better than they know me. At the rate they are going, they will never meet Emma, and they don’t see Justin as a threat. I wake up with pains I don’t remember experiencing, and new scars appear daily. And that man sat there every day since I came into this room, and based on what I’ve seen, he has been probed and poked with God knows what, maybe the same things that Mark encountered…” Harry dropped his head. “Maybe worse things…”

“Next time,” Niall said, uncurling himself, “I’ll go first, okay?”

Harry gave a tiny sideways smile. “I won’t remember it anyway. Besides, why fix something if it isn’t broken?”

Niall silently nodded and pulled himself back together, muttering into his kneecaps. And in that large room surrounded by banging and yelling, silence rang through each of their ears. At that moment in time, Louis didn’t care much about seeing his mother soon; he cared more about the three men in front of him and the confused boy he massaged. And each of the boys had the same notion, the other caring just as much as the next.

As the noise came back, Louis got the urge to line up the chairs on the wall by size, and he really wanted to pick at his skin, the soft area inside his forearm. But Harry was by him, as were the rest of them, and his need faded as he focused on the four people grounding him to sanity.

Harry tried to focus on the touch of Louis’ fingers and ignore the black forming around his vision. With every breath, he felt himself seconds away from blacking out, but he honed in on Louis; and his vision popped back every time. And underneath the surface, Mark rested next to an always loud Justin while Emma fought; but after no surrender, Emma moved back and stayed between Justin and Mark. Harry slowly shut his eyes, and his body relaxed into a light sleep.

Liam wanted nothing more than to disappear through the floor. His body was a churning tank full of anxiety and depression battling against one another. And every time he looked up, he saw his mother standing there, whether it be behind Niall or across the room or down the hall. He just wanted to scream at him, to get answers for his questions. But once he opened his mouth, she left him again, and Liam resorted to tapping his fingers one by one on his leg, waiting for the next moment.

Zayn’s eyes moved from each of the boys back to his hands. They never changed; they were always red. Zayn fought off the urge to scream, to cry, to collapse on the floor. Whenever he looked up from his hands, he saw his wife. Her hands, too, were covered in blood; and she held the hands of their two year old girls. He blinked, and still they stood there, unrelenting. When Zayn dropped his head down and brought it back up, bright lights appeared behind his wife and daughters. He reached out to touch them and noticed his fingers were only stained. His wife bent down and kissed their daughters, slowly ushering them into the light. Suddenly, it disappeared, and Julia stood there with blood trickling down her face before turning and walking down the hall. Zayn looked back down and saw blood.

Inside Niall’s head, two of his friends talked back and forth to each other while he just kept quiet and let them speak. When he looked up from his knees, he swore that he saw his mother, but another voice answered his thought, saying she was still in Ireland. Niall nodded in agreement and placed his head back down. He wanted to shout out, but he wanted to sit and relax, too. So the little voice in the back of his mind stopped speaking, and Niall sat peacefully around his four friends, eager for it to be Harry’s birthday so that he could sing.

While they all focused on the thoughts inside their own heads, the doctors and nurses focused on the patients in the room. Minute by minute, another left the room, only to be taken down a hall they’ve never been before. Some fought and made noise while others plainly submitted to the coercion. And after many left the room, Louis pulled from his trance and looked around. He barely made out the whispers spoken into patients’ ears, but not once did hear the same words muttered to the old man. He stored their faces into his memory, and as Doctor Christensen tapped him on the shoulder, Louis hoped he’d see them all tomorrow as he walked down the hall to his therapy session.

Zayn walked absentmindedly into his session and sat down numbly at the desk. His eyes darted around the room as his doctor sat down, sliding him the notebook. As quickly as the last vision occurred, his wife appeared to him again; this time, she did not have one ounce of blood on her body. Zayn smiled at her as she walked over to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. She bent down and kissed him, and a chill ran through Zayn’s body. Instead of fighting it, Zayn let her go, watching her walk away into that same bright light that his daughters walked through. And when he looked down at his hands, they were clean.

From beyond Zayn’s room, Liam stood in the corner of the office, pressing his hands against the wall. His doctor stood in front of him, hands outstretched. He opened his mouth to speak, but Liam caught a glimpse of his mother first. “Why did you leave me?” he shouted, staring beyond his doctor. “Why did you do it?” As he got angrier, his hands shook and his heart rate increased. He shut his eyes to control it, but when he opened them, his mother left. “Answer my questions!” He pressed his palms to his forehead, his legs gave out, and he slid down the wall and onto the floor. When the doctor reached out to touch him, muttering calming words, Liam pushed out his hands and shoved the doctor, throwing him backwards and into the desk. He let out a cry of pain as Liam curled back in on himself and began crying for his mother.

Hearing only the voices in his head, Niall blinked repeatedly at Mark lying on a table in front of him. He had one band across his midsection, and he struggled to get comfortable. Niall just continued to smile at him while the doctors walked over to Mark and wrote something on their charts. “Mark,” one of them said, “we need to speak to Harry; please let him come out.” Instead of obeying their wishes, Mark shifted his weight and kicked one of them in the chest, knocking him into a table of operation tools. Neither of the doctors appeared angry; they simply sorted themselves again and grabbed both Niall and Harry’s charts. The one who Mark kicked unclasped his torso restraints. “You’re both free to go; we were doubtful this was even going to work in the first place.”

Mark and Niall exited the room together. Niall started towards the main room but stopped when he realized he wasn’t being followed. “Mark?” Niall turned around and watched Mark walk to Harry’s door. “Stay?”

He gave a reassuring grin to Niall. “Sorry, but I really want to get Harry into bed. It’s better this way for him. I promise I’ll be gone tomorrow, and you and Harry can plan for next year’s party, okay?”

Niall’s smile was the widest it has ever been, and Mark smiled back before walking into Harry’s room and shutting the door. Niall continued smiling as he turned around and noticed Liam walking out from his therapy. There were two doctors with him now, and each of them held one of Liam’s arms. His head hung down and he barely lifted his feet. Niall’s smile didn’t fade because in his head everyone was talking about what a good time they would have tomorrow with Niall’s four friends.

And as Liam was dragged around the corner and down another hallway, the lights seemed to dim and his mother appeared less. The further they went down the dark hallway, the more Liam’s nose crinkled. The smell in the hall made Liam want to keel over, and before he actually did it, they entered a new room. Doctor Christensen stood there in front of a bed with arm and leg straps; he had Liam’s chart in his hand. “I’m sorry we have to do this to you, Liam, but we’re hopeful this will help.”

The two men carrying Liam threw him onto the bed, and without much fight, Liam felt the straps wrap around his legs and arms, a final one being clasped around his torso. He turned his head away from Doctor Christensen and saw instruments sitting on the counter. Some were sharp, some were blunt, and they all were covered in dried blood. Liam’s voice stuck in his throat as they wheeled his bed into a corner. Doctor Christensen left Liam’s chart in between his legs, and the three men walked out of the room. Liam turned his head to the other side and saw someone else lying on the same type of bed. He wasn’t clothed, and a large, red cut ran up his side to the middle of his stomach. He was facing the other direction, but Liam noticed the bands on his arms weren’t the same brown color that Liam’s were. Instead, they were a pale color, almost translucent. As Liam looked closer, a nauseating feeling rippled through his whole body. The man’s skin had grown over the straps on both his arms and legs. Liam screamed out, and his mother was nowhere to be found.

In Louis’ bed, he flipped over and instinctively pulled at hair on his right arm. Before he had the chance to draw blood, he turned on his back and wound his arms around his chest, digging his nails into his sides. And if he closed his eyes tight enough, the things he hated about himself disappeared. His sides began to grow numb.

Niall ran into the common room the next morning, giddy and ready to talk to his friends. One by one, each of them filtered in. By the time Zayn made his way in, Louis and Harry were side-by-side and Niall was sitting happily next to them.

Zayn cocked his head at Liam’s chair. “Anyone see Liam today?”

Harry and Louis shook their heads simultaneously. Niall leaned forward in his chair and stared at the floor. “I saw him last night, I think.” Everyone turned to face Niall, and he quickly stared at the ground again. “He was, uhm, with people in white, I think. They took him down a different hallway. I’m not sure quite where. I was talking to other friends.” He ran his hand through his hair.

Louis sat forward in his chair. “Where would they take him?”

Harry pursed his lips. “There are hundreds of hallways in this building and at least five floors. He could be anywhere, especially if he had an ‘episode’ during his session.” Harry hovered his hands in the air, making emphasis on episode with his fingers. “At least, that’s what the doctors call it when a patient becomes unruly.” He stared down at the floor.

“But I’m getting out today,” Zayn muttered, breathing out deeply. Everyone turned to look at Zayn, even Niall. “My doctor says that I’m free to go, that I’ll be leaving in a few minutes. My wife left yesterday, and my hands are clean; I’m better.”

Niall blinked his eyes at Zayn. “But you can’t go. You and Liam have to be here for Harry’s birthday; we all want you here. How will Louis know what to do without you and Liam being here?”

Zayn smiled warmly at Niall. “I promise I’ll come back and visit; we can sit at that one table and play cards. It will be just like it is now; I won’t leave forever, Niall.”

Harry took in a breath. “I’m happy for you, Zayn. And we’ll never forget about you.” Niall curled into a ball on his chair. “I’ll take care of Niall.”

“We both will.” Louis patted Zayn on the knee, and he returned with a smile.

Not before long, the woman at the front desk walked into the room and headed towards Zayn. Her smile was warm and forgiving. “Hello, Zayn; are you ready to leave?”

Zayn turned back to Niall, Louis, and Harry. “It’s been a pleasure, boys. I’ll be back; I’ll come back, I promise.” He tipped his head and turned away, walking in stride with the woman as they exited the common room through a door that Louis never anticipated he’d see the other side of again.

Niall let out a whimper as he folded in on himself even more. Harry gently touched his arm, cooing him quietly. Louis looked at his two friends and then back at the rocking chair, still empty. He met eyes with Harry again, and the only thing Harry knew to do was smile at him.

Suddenly, a hand ran down Harry’s arm, and a shiver shook through his body. Harry’s vision started to black out around the corners as he turned his head and saw Doctor Christensen standing behind him. Louis watched Harry’s demeanor change, and he went to grab Harry’s wrist. The doctor touched Louis’ hand and shook his head. He bent down and whispered into Harry’s ear. “We’re going to take you to surgery now, Harry.” Louis jumped out of his chair, pushing it across the room. A man in beige grabbed him by the arms and held him back.

Slowly, a dazed Harry stood up, being escorted by Doctor Christensen. Another doctor behind him walked over to Niall and latched onto his arms. Niall followed willingly, weak and defeated after losing too many friends. Louis tried to tug away from the man, but it was no use. His eyes met Harry’s, and from across the room, Harry whispered, “Louis.” In that one word, Louis understood that Harry knew.

The man in beige let go of Louis, and he folded forward, trying to catch his breath. They were going to the same place, Louis was sure of it. The doctors did the same things to Niall as they did to Harry. His world was spinning, and the ground seemed to warp beneath his feet. Once Louis looked at the empty chairs around him, he started for his room. His insides were churning, and his heart was racing. He lost so much so quickly. First, his mother and family; now, his hospital family. They were the only people holding him together, holding him here. Louis didn’t know if his mother would ever come back, and he already knew he wouldn’t be seeing Liam or Harry or Niall again. And if Zayn came back, would there even be anyone left to come back for? Everyone was gone, and Louis ached to rip his skin from his body.

He ran into his room and slammed the door. He collapsed forward on his bed and screamed into his pillow, wrapping his arms around his body and digging his nails into his sides. He rolled over and fell onto the ground, the blanket coming with him. He ran his hands through his hair, pulling at the roots and crying silently. Slowly, his arms unraveled and his hand found its way to the inside of his forearm, that place he has been dying to touch. He pulled at the skin there, it tender to the touch, and between his sobs, his hand moved to his wrist. With every second, he tugged at the skin, pulling a little bit up with each motion. Minutes passed, and Louis let out a spine-chilling sob. He leaned up against his bed, his thoughts finally settling on Harry, as blood began trickling down his wrist.

With each passing second, Harry’s vision became hazier and fuzzier. The black had almost completely taken over as he was walked down the hall and into a bright room. Once a surgical table came into view, Harry shut his eyes and he faded into black. Mark opened his eyes again and spun around to Doctor Christensen. “What are you going to do to him?”

Doctor Christensen shook his head. “I thought that maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t show up today.” He sat Mark on the table, and another doctor in the room came over to latch him down. “Put Niall in the isolation chamber; we’ll bring him out later.”

Niall perked up as the man guiding him placed him in front of a door. After he opened it, Niall was thrown into it, falling on the white floor. It was softer than Niall expected, and once he stood back up, the door shut behind him. He placed his hands on the door and stared out the small window at his eye level.

Doctor Christensen held two probes above Mark’s head as the other doctors stood by a machine on the counter. “Okay, give me a substantial shock.” The one doctor turned a knob, and Doctor Christensen placed the instruments at the base of Mark’s neck. His whole body shook on the table, and his eyes fluttered. He looked up at the doctor and spin in his face. Doctor Christensen cursed. “More.” He brought the probes to Mark’s neck again, and his midsection bounced off the table and he fell slack, his head turning sideways.

Niall pressed his face to the window, his arms shaking. “But birthday.” A tear ran down his face.

Doctor Christensen handed the probes off and touched Mark gently. “Harry, it’s okay; you can come out now.”

Slowly, his eyes flickered open and he looked up at the doctor. “What the hell are you doing to him?” Mark’s voice was weak as he tried to keep his eyes open. “Get the fuck away from him.”

“We have no choice.” Doctor Christensen turned to the other men. “We’re going to have to perform surgery. And if this didn’t work on Harry, it definitely won’t work on Niall; there’s no point in even trying it.” He slipped on a pair of gloves. “They are mentally ill; their brains aren’t working properly. We must perform brain surgery on the both of them before it’s too late.”

Mark shut his eyes on the table. “I’m sorry, Harry; I didn’t try hard enough.” His eyes didn’t open again.

As Doctor Christensen reached for the blood-stained tool to break Harry’s skull, Niall sunk to the ground, realizing they wouldn’t be having anymore birthdays.

**Author's Note:**

> Zayn - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder  
> Liam - Bipolar I Disorder  
> Louis - Body Dysmorphic Disorder / OCD  
> Niall - Schizophrenia  
> Harry - Dissociative Identity Disorder
> 
> If you have any questions, feel free to inbox me here or message me on tumblr.
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> 
> Thank you very much, and have a Happy Halloween.


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